creed of blood
by drew4055
Summary: joe harding is a young american soldier who has been thrown into hell as he fights for his life and his country in the remaining months of world war 2 a story filled with gore, drama and suspense. please R


_I dont own call of duty all characters are of coicedence_

"they always say that life is just a task you must complete, they never tell you how hard it can be sometimes".

"i know what you mean corporal, i gotta kid back home and i always fear he'll grow up without me", cried staff sergent Vick Avery.

we never really thought about the war much, it was just eat sleep train and guard, we never fought a battle before. it was late october in the outskirts of normandy, you see we are of the 5th marine division, we entered france after the 101st and 88th airbourne squads cleared the beaches. we were truely just a pack of lackys for the generals and their shit that they called men, mostly just a bunch of kids.

"joe, joe snap outta it man, the krauts 'r' gonna get ya if ya'll dont pay some 'tention now ya'll hear" boomed the voice of our squad commander lutenent Bo Jennings, he was from Mobile, or Bamma as he would put it.

"no i aint gonna die tonight", i blurped

"whys that" Bo asked

"cause i only see one kraut and its in a jar"

"thats stupid joe" Jim Hardings exclaimed

"i 'ont gets it" Bo querried

we never got much action, but ever since the germans left normandy you couldnt hear annything at night cause of all the artillery they unloaded on us. other than that it was like being powerless during a hurricane. my name is Joe Bishop, im from florida but we moved to georgia about a year ago. im 26 and i still live with my mother. i just couldnt leave her my little brother ben by themselves after dad died. but three years ago i got a telegram saying ive been drafted and that i ship out to fort sumter in february.

basic didnt take to long to go through but then they wanted make me a regular militia men but i couldnt stand flyin so i asked for transfer, a big mistake. the marines trained like damn ants in an ant hill. they never stopped nor slowed up. it wasnt untill '43 that i shipped out for china, the japs gave up a few months later so i saw no action. then in june of '44 i was sent here five days after d-day. so that leaves me here, normandy france october 15 1944, also known as d-day + 9.

"joe its my night for g-duty so you go on and get you some rest, you'll need it, we enter paris tommorow"

"alright vick, and thanks for the ciggeretts"

now my mom raised me better than to smoke but when you are inna war and you get the nerves jumpin you kinda need a relaxer and since we couldnt drink except on holidays i went to cancer sticks. so i did as vick said and got some rest.

the next day halfway to paris

"my ass is killing me, weve been driving for 2 hours now", cried pvt harding

"shut up jim" sassed bo

"how bout you and jim do us a favor and shut up all together eh bo"

"'ight"bo agreed

about half an hour later we came across a german batallion held prisoner by the 101st.

"ya'll wanna kraut"asked one of the airbourne sgts

next thing we new he put a german teen in our truck. the boy wasnt shaking nor was he scared he looked pissed then he said

"du bist ist alle tran affen und sheise kapfen, du bist ist swinen"

jim spoke german and slaped the boy, he told us that he called us porch monkeys and shit heads, we all new what a swine was already.

the boy then retalliated, i still cry today thinking of what happened.

the boy had lashed out and struck jim on the cheek, then bo went for his rifle but vick got his first and aimed at the boy.

kapow, blood flew every where, then more shots rang through the air, when the shots disapeared i then rose my head to find the boy ripped to shreds by the multiple shots that hit him, to his left was a medic, he was trying to patch up vick.

vick died later that night, apparently he shot the boy and the airbourne responded by returning fire and loading the boy full of lead, one of the soldiers shot the kid with a springfeild and it ent through hitting vick in his juggular. i wrote the letter to his wife and son. i recieved one back three months later, it said that the boy, only ten years old, shot himself in an attempt to join his father. poor kid.

this was only my first taste of the war. the battle for paris would take months of horrific scenes just like this one.


End file.
